Stress Relief Isn't
by HOORAHDUCKY
Summary: Just until the stress wears off, she thinks. Rating for adult themes. finally got the site to let it upload
1. Just Until or The Lie

Light trickled in through the window, directly into the eyes of Hermione Granger, who promptly pulled the covers over her throbbing head. Ten minutes until the day really starts…. she thought, reaching for her drawer of remedies.

The thumb-sized purple vial held a potion whose taste vaguely reminded Hermione of grass, moldy sardine pizza, and cow manure. This potion, however, helped her ward away the daemon of a hangover she possessed from last nights solo activities. Just until I've got my studies and personal life at a manageable level, she lied to herself again. After all, it's not doing anyone any kind of damage….

Ginny sat up in her bed as she had all night, and every night these past few weeks. Something was out of sorts with Hermione, but she hadn't mentioned anything and surely she would have said something. It wasn't just work stress, Ginny knew that, even if Harry and Ron didn't notice a difference. They seemed to be going for the title of Best Blunderboy lately and were thusly oblivious. Ginny felt like a helpless outsider trying to save them all, and mused about whether Harry ever felt that way.

Hermione got to breakfast early, as usual, and the Great Hall was near empty. Pointing her wand at her goblet through her robes, she muttered the spell under her breath so those few around her couldn't hear. She took a sip, silently admiring her handiwork. The pumpkin juice she had just transfigured into firewhiskey seemed the perfect reward. She sipped and read, finishing off a goblet and a half before Harry and Ron showed up. She slowed down to participate in small talk, and then ran off to class, another goblet or so of whiskey in her system.

Ginny didn't bother with breakfast, heading instead to Professor McGonagall's office. After being allowed in, the nervous young woman fidgeted momentarily.

"Professor…." She started weakly. McGonagall looked up at her.

"I am not a Legillmens, Ms. Weasley, please speak."

Ginny explained, stuttering, that Hermione had been acting strange. The mood swings, the apparent sleep deprivation, the lack of telling people how she was. There was a moment's silence.

"I don't think there really is any kind of problem, Ms. Weasley. I think it's just how Hermione is. Best leave it be."

Ginny sighed, being waved away by the Head of House. As long as Hermione's grades weren't suffering, she didn't really expect anyone else to care about the pain her friend was going through. Hermione had slowly been pushing Ginny away these past few weeks, since about September 1st. It couldn't be just the workload, that wasn't Hermione's way.


	2. Kryptonite

A/N: Forgot my disclaimer on the last chapter… Just remember, I own nothing. Not the characters I use, the songs, or to some extent, the plot. I'd also like to thank those who fed my review monkey. Since feeding, he and the tobacco monkey seem quite pleased.

Ginny kept a close eye on Hermione, noting the subtle differences in her friend. For instance, nowadays Hermione was more involved with her breakfast than anything else, specifically her juice. She ate less, talked less, and wasn't even reading at the table anymore for the most part. Hermione just seemed… trapped to Ginny. Trapped within herself, and not willing to find a way out.

She hasn't neglected her Prefect's duties, though…. Ginny thought sardonically, remembering the three times this week her twin brothers had their butterbeer or firewhiskey confiscated. The only part that was off was that there had not been any punishments from the McGonalgall or Dumbledore. As Hermione packed up her books and went to bed, rubbing her head like she had a killer headache, a small piece of parchment fell out of her homework stack.

Ginny picked it up and headed to bed herself. Once in the confines of her dorm, alone on her bed, Ginny felt she should check it out. After all, Hermione's homework has never been this short.

_No one listens as I speak_

_Words of drowning in myself_

_While in a crowd, I'm lonely_

_And trapped in my own hell_

_Hell is my own mind_

_My ignorance and brains_

_Those ghostly terrors in my heart_

_My emotions and my pains_

_My restless heart_

_My tireless thoughts_

_My sleepless nights_

_My tomorrows lost_

_And the silence that I speak_

_To check if anyone's listening_

Ginny stared at the parchment for awhile, not noticing as the other girls entered the dorm. All she knew at this moment was she had to know, had to understand, had to help. Poor Hermione thought she was alone, and no one else had bothered to check on her. Ginny was bitterly reminded of last year, when Hermione was the only one to notice the differences in her. Another sleepless night would pass before she'd get any answers.

Hermione pulled a confiscated bottle from her trunk, surprised that Fred and George hadn't said anything about not getting detention. At the very least, she'd have thought they'd thank her in their traditional way. Which is to say, she had figured they'd give her more. The twelve pack of butterbeer had been finished fairly easily, followed with a bottle of firewhiskey. This week has been a major haul, Hermione mused, So why am I running out already?

She had never been paranoid before, but now that her supplies were low, Hermione suspected everyone around her. After all, the only person she really trusted had graduated and was out of contact for now. Ginny… well, she could trust Ginny, to an extent. Not enough to tell her of this form of stress relief, but enough so she wasn't top of the list of thieves.

She started mumbling a song to herself, walking down to a now deserted common room. Everyone else must be asleep, it is midnight… she reasoned. "If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman…" she muttered, staring into the embers of the fireplace.

Ginny heard someone moving and decided to follow. She watched as those familiar curls sat in front of the fire, slurring something.

"…Hermione?" Ginny asked tentatively.

"Shouldn you be sleep?" Hermione slurred, weary, wary, and defensive.

"Shouldn't you?" Ginny countered, taken aback by the state her friend was in. "…What are you doing to yourself, Hermione?"

"Jus a li'l stress relief, Gin. Keep my brain from 'sploding or whateva it was the twins warned me about." Hermione sighed.

"How often do you try to relieve your stress like this?" Ginny aske,d sitting next to her friend, dreading the answer.

"Not too often…. Every coupl'a days or so….." Hermione responded dully, her eyes finally leaving the fireplace to look at her friend. Ginny had no response but to gape at her friend, openmouthed. After a moment, Ginny shut her mouth and crossed her arms, having volumes to say, but not knowing how to convey the ideas swimming in her head to her lost friend. Instead she stood, walked to the stairs, and imparted one phrase on Hermione.

"If you ever need to, or just want to, talk, you know where to find me."


	3. Reminicing and Numbness

A/N: Alright, now that I'm not in the middle of a sentence, I'd like to thank Mcalison and Armed Metropolis for reviewing bowbow and DEFINITELY thanks to Mcalison for adding me to her favorites list.

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Hermione sat, alone again, and reminisced. When she had lived with her grandmother, things were reversed, and harder on Hermione's part. She had been where Ginny is, in a sense. She recalled doing most, if not all, the housework that year, taxes, balancing the checkbook, running "their" store…. It was hard. It was always hard being the responsible one when the adults couldn't.

She sighed, remembering her dad crying on her shoulder, her mom sitting, stone-faced, across the couch. Being taught how to balance negative finances young, and how to do cheap fix-its on the house. Not having what most people call a childhood.

Another shot, another sip, another bottle… only for tonight. Only until I'm numb.

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Ginny wanted to help her friend, but had no clue what the problem was, or where to start. If Hermione was to be saved, Ginny needed a starting point, or at least an idea of one. Sure, there was stress, a lot of it self-inflicted, but not enough to go crazy.

She wrote down the conversation, as she had written all her observations for the last couple weeks. The things she had written scared her, but no one believed any of them. Ginny felt alone in her quest to help the troubled older girl.

At least she hasn't tried to seriously hurt herself…. Ginny thought bitterly, imagining her friend with spider-web scars, bleeding profusely. At least she's smarter than that….

She resolved to try McGonagall again in the morning. With this evidence, maybe she'd help. Maybe she wouldn't ignore the signs this time. Maybe….

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Hermione awoke to other early risers coming downstairs and wondering why she was there.

"Came down to think, fell asleep…." She laughed a little, getting up. "Just forgot to go back to bed."

She went down to breakfast, performing her usual morning juice ritual. This morning was only different because she wanted, no, _needed_ to talk to the twins. It was a matter of mental health, hers and theirs. Picking at her small breakfast, she all but summoned them to her.

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When Fred and George walked in, Hermione took them aside to talk. Ginny watched her friend, silently wondering what she was up to. Harry and Ron looked once, but didn't seem to give it a second thought, especially once the post arrived. A small package landed in front of McGonagall and Hermione's newspaper showed up, but nothing else Ginny would note arrived.

"Drives a hard bargain, that one…." George muttered, sitting next to Alicia and Katie. Fred chuckled.

"Right, Forge, never figured she'd be a better businessman than us."

The group laughed and turned to talking about Quidditch, but Ginny's staring proved enough to stop their conversation cold.

"Oy, Ginny, what's on your mind?" Katie asked as the other three looked to the youngest Weasley.

"What was the deal?" Ginny responded softly. "What did she want?"

The twins shrugged. "Just a nip of our contraband. Didn't figure her to be the type, but it works in our favor." They answered softly in unison. The girls looked at them, confused.

Ginny allowed the little clique to resume meaningless conversation as she processed exactly what her brothers had told her. Hermione wasn't the type to drown her problems, she was too strong, too confident, too… Hermione. What Ginny didn't see was the soft shade of shame in her friend's eyes after every gulp from her goblet.


End file.
